I'm Not Bitter
by Simply Amaryllis
Summary: This is the first of three responses to the Urban Decay challenge. Anthony Goldstein's unwilling trip to a bar turns out in his favor.
Bitter

 **So this is the first of three chapters for the Urban Decay Prompt Challenge, and the prompt for this one was 'Bitter'. For this, I have selected a random character – I closed my eyes and scrolled to a point, and the name I was on was the character I focused on – and here we are!**

Anthony sighed. Tonight was not going well. It had all started when his best friend and roommate, Terry Boot, had decided they were going out. Anthony had been sat on the sofa, enraptured by the latest novel by his favourite author when the book was pulled out of his hands.

"Hey! What the hell?" He yelled.

Terry threw the book onto the coffee table and raised his hands to surrender. "Calm down Anthony! I just wanted your attention – I've been calling you."

Anthony huffed a frustrated sigh, and sat up slightly. "What is it?"

"I'm going out with Padma, Lavender and Michael, down to the pub for a few. You should come."

"No." Anthony replied, leaning over to pick up his book. Terry let out an exasperated noise. "What now?"

"You've not been out with us since you broke up with Maddie!"

"Don't talk about her!"

"Look mate, I'm sorry but it's been months! This break-up has turned you into a bitter, miserable git, and if this was reversed, you'd force me out the door and frog-march me to the pub yourself! So snap out of it!" Anthony glared up at him as he waved his arms for emphasis. He then breathed out slowly.

"Fine, I'll come. But only because you said I'm bitter and I'm not!"

And here he was, sat in a booth at a random bar in the centre of London, wishing that he was at home with his book still. His 'bitter' mood had resulted in them throwing some form of muggle beer all over him whilst trying to get him to down it, and now his nice, newly washed jeans stank of the stuff. At least he'd been able to discretely dry them with a mumbled spell. The others were now all at the bar, ordering the third and fourth rounds of alcohol that they were attempting to ply themselves and him with.

His grumbling thoughts were interrupted when a hand tapped on his shoulder, and he turned to see a woman with blonde hair in a ponytail and grey eyes smiling at him shyly.

"Hey, can I buy you a drink?" He opened his mouth to turn the blonde down, but was silenced when she carried on talking, "Wait, wait! Before you say no, I'm not trying to come onto you. My friends made me come and ask you as they seem to feel like playing matchmaker, and they won't let me sit down until I bought a guy a drink!" She looked at him with a pleading look. He rolled his eyes and stood.

"One drink." She smiled with relief and started heading towards the bar with Anthony following.

"Thank you! I'm Nicole by the way."

"Anthony." He grunted. She eyed him from her position next to him at the bar.

"You're a rather grumpy fellow you know." He glared.

"No. I just don't want to be here. My friends forced me."

"Ahh, okay. Nice to meet you then Anthony." She grinned, before turning to the bartender to order two pints of some exotic-sounding beer. Once they had been served, Anthony turned and returned to his table. It was still empty, and after a quick look he found them dancing on the other side of the room. He thumped down into his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the irritation.

"So, what do you do for a living Anthony?" He looked up to see the blonde, Nicole, had followed him and slid into the booth next to him. He sighed.

"I'm a doctor."

"I'm a paramedic myself – I just love the pressure, it keeps you going, I find!" The passion in her voice managed to get Anthony smiling – he shared the same passion for medicine.

"I know what you mean – I usually work on the severe cases, and it can really get the adrenaline pumping!" He noticed Nicole's grin grow, and the two started comparing weirdest cases, although Anthony was modifying his slightly – he had no clue if she was a muggle or a witch.

Later that night, when his friends had tired themselves out and had decided it was time to head home, he stood and grabbed his jacket before turning to say goodbye to his companion. As he was leaving, he felt a slip of paper slide into his palm, before the blonde woman walked back to her giggling friends.

Looking down, he saw a phone number – his Father had ensured he knew how to get by as a muggle. Smiling to himself, he left the bar, promising himself he'd call when he got out of work the next day. He didn't notice Terry, Lavender and Michael high-fiving each other drunkenly – calling Anthony bitter always works!


End file.
